A Slashers Guide to insanity
by cryofdarkfire
Summary: Well here is the wonderfull result of my freinds and I going insane. You've never seen these couples before..
1. Jesse's Idea

            For reasons that will soon become obvious, I retain absolutely no responsibility for the enclosed material. The idea came from Jesse, and it was thought up at about two in the morning, during a long conversation on slash fan fics. Enjoy, and don't give me a hard time for it.

Dumbledore sat at his desk, scraping the end of his quill across an ancient piece of parchment, dazed thoughts passing behind his sparkling blue eyes.

            "Albus?" a familiar voice said from behind him. The professor turned slowly, unable to believe his ears.

            "You…. You came back..." he rose and locked lips with the tall, lean figure behind him, and it was a long time before they drew apart again. 

            "I have, it's been too long." The figure said, running callused fingers through the snow-white hair that was Dumbledore's. " I missed you too much."

            "You still aren't following him, are you? Sidian no longer controls you?"

            "He does, but that means nothing. All that matters is that I'm here, loving you."

            Dumbledore stepped back, and stared into the bloodshot eyes. Memories flashed before him…. Years of long, wonderful summers and cold winters nights when he could be with the only one he had ever truly loved, long before his power as a wizard and the other's power as a follower had come between them….

            The red, expressionless face stared at the pale, wrinkled one. "How can this happen, we've survived galaxy's apart, years without seeing each other's faces? Now, my master can split everything we have worked so hard for? Everything I live for?"

            Dumbledore looked back across his desk, his eyes unfocused. 

            "Please Albus, you understand me better than anyone! Please, you know what brought me here! You have your magic and your power, all I have is Sidian to follow!"

            "I understand."

            "Then it has been too long?"

            "Too long to heal."

            "It cannot be saved?"

            "No."

            Dumbledore sat again at his desk, wiping tears from his face, and Darth Maul slowly walked from the office.

            Okay, lol, I know it's terrible, but what can you expect when a cool day in New Jersey is 98, as opposed to the high of 105 degrees when I wrote this? Hugs to you all!

            Disclaimer: I do not own the character of Albus Dubledore. He belongs to JK Rowling. I also don't own Darth Maul, he belongs to whoever had the gall to produce The Phantom Menace and ruin a perfectly decent series of movies. I would also like to encourage them to sentence Jar Jar Binks as soon as possible to the most painful violent death allowed to be shown in a public theater. If you are a straight assed conservative who finds the bad part of this story not in the fact that the characters are from to different media but that they are both men, then it's your problem, I don't care, and get a life.


	2. Mouse's Idea

            Minerva looked into the scratched, ivory-framed mirror that hung decoratively above the dresser in the living quarters of her office. 

            "Letting our hair down," she chuckled, thinking of the old-fashondness of the phrase she had used a dozen times a few weeks before in describing what would happen that evening. Christmas wasn't her favorite holiday, and hadn't been for years. She undid the tight bun above the nape of her neck and let the waves of once red hair fall to her waist. It was browner now, and streaked with white. She thought of magically dying it again. 

            "It's not worth it. There's no use hiding that I'm just getting old." She thought, trying to ignore the lines sprouting at the corners of her eyes and the fact that her figure was nowhere near what it used to be. Not that anyone noticed anymore. Not that many had ever noticed.

            She glanced out the castle window at the rapidly falling snow. Hagrid was bringing a wreath the size of a small elephant into the great hall, Fang sliding on the slush behind him. They had used that wreath before, the professor thought distractedly, last Christmas. When there were only five students staying the holidays. 

            But that was a painful thing to remember. That was the day that Sybille had made her ridiculous prediction. And the day Minerva had finally told her off for it. 

            Minerva doubted that any student at school a decade before would recognize her now. Ten years ago, though still strict, Minerva had been cheerful, out going, held her head high and smiled at the students. She was full of the old fire that had burned for her then, she was a strong witch and knew it. Those days ended far too soon. The days when Minerva was in love.

            None of the staff could have guessed it then, and few of them knew of it even now. No student in their wildest dreams could have imagined it, that tightly strung Professor McGonigal and the slightly eccentric Professor Trelwany were in love. 

            But they were. During sleepless hours of the night and during the long silence of work, images of the past worked their way into her mind. Sybille's blue green eyes, overflowing with happiness and affection. Her long hair tossed in the wind. Her jewelry sparkling with moonlight. Her soft, thin lips.

            Those were the best years on Minerva's life, the years when she finally found someone who loved her back. Those were days when an observer might truly think love was blind, then look back a few years latter and see that it wasn't.

            Maybe it was the difference between their branches of magic. Perhaps it was the huge gap in their personalities. But whatever it was, Minerva had felt it all shoved in her heart with the pained glance she was given by Sybille one year before, at the Christmas feast.

            Minerva sighed and twisted her hair back into a bun. She tied her new, rather ugly dress robes around herself, and placed an even newer, even uglier hat on her head. She let her thumb run over the silvery band on her finger. A tear, a hundred times brighter than any precious metal ran down her cheek. She brushed it aside and made her way to the great hall. 

            Disclaimer: I own none of the characters featured in this story. They all belong to JK Rowling. If you are a closed-minded idiot who is offended by this, then it's your problem, not mine. I would like to thank Mouse for thinking this one up, and will continue to punish myself for not thinking of it on my own :-)


	3. My Idea

Severus ran his fingers over the small potion bottles on his desk. He glanced at the clock. Twenty minutes. 

            Twenty minutes until, after more than five years, he would see the one person he could truly say he loved. It had been so long, so long he thought the always-expressionless eyes he had spent so many hours staring into had forgotten him. Of course he had not forgotten them, but had the owl with the fateful message had not arrived a week before, then he might have lost hope.

            Severus closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He could see the proud, pale face, framed by silky black hair, gazing toward the dawn, the way it had when they had last met.

            "We are totally different, Severus, and some things cannot be bridged." The ruby lips formed words that Severus knew needed to be said, but that he never wanted to hear. "We need to face that nothing this big can last, that no matter what, love cant always conquer all."

            "Please, no, we can make it last," Severus had begged, but the one he was about to see again was too strong to fall to small pleading. "You'll be back soon, and we can be together again…"

            "Perhaps. But now, we cannot project the future. I have to go."

            Then Severus had felt the red, red lips on his own, and the figure was gone in a glitter of sparks.

            But now he would feel those lips again and feel the long, strong fingers in his hair. Strong was the only word to describe that one special person, and their body breathed it from every curve. No iron was as constant as those steely black eyes, no bridge firmer than the curves of that mouth…

            "Severus?" A flat but beautiful voice echoed from the half opened door. "Can I come in?"

            Severus ran to the other end of his office, and folded the figure on the in the hall into his arms. They stood for a long time, feeling the long absent love flow though their veins, filled with warmth and passionate fire.

            Severus stepped back and looked at the visitor. A tight fitting uniform showed off a tall, muscular body. He touched the face before him with an abstract recognition that it was there, beautiful and constant. 

            In a single, liquid movement their lips had found each other, and they kissed.

            "It's been to long."

            "Far too long."

            "I told you, before I left, that I loved you?"

            "You did, and I will always remember it."

            Severus led his love the window and they looked out at the stars, the same way they had years before, when they had first found each other. 

            And Mr. Spock put his head on Severus Snape's chest, and felt at peace. His love looked into his eyes, which revealed none of the inner bliss he felt. But of course they never did. 

Hehe, k, that one actually turned out kind of touching, don't you think? You should probably know that I have only seen about a combined fifteen minutes of Star Trek, First Generation, in my lifetime, and spend most of it rolling on the floor at the sight of the special effects and acting. Please forgive me if Mr. Spock's physical attributes have no resemblance to those in this story. And if you are extremely close-minded and conservative and have been hideously offended by this, well, I have only one piece of consolation. Screw you.

PS. After talking to several Star Trek fans, I have learned that Mr. Spock did, in fact have very pale lips, unlike those he had here. If you are offended by the fact that I messed up your favorite characters face, then the problem is obviously yours. Oh, and if it still bothers you, he was wearing lipstick (giggles insanely at the thought). 

Disclaimer: I don't (damnit) own the character of Severus Snape, he belongs to JK Rowling. Mr. Spock belongs to whoever writes Star Treck. I would like to apologize to both of the above for this story. I would also like to offer to pay for a round of writing classes to whoever wrote the Star Treck, First Generation scripts. They obviously need them.


End file.
